Captivity
by R2-D2106
Summary: A little oneshot originally written for a school assignment. One Rebel's perspective on Imperial captivity, hence the title. Please read and review!


I cracked open an eye and quickly shut it again. I know where I am, but am powerless to do anything about it. I searched my memory, trying to remember every last detail, so when my children ask me what happened, they would hear the truth not some military propaganda, no matter who wins.

I flexed my fingers, and feeling their response in my nerves, relax slightly. I cautiously pulled myself into a sitting position. The stun blast was wearing off, thank goddess. I opened my eyes slowly and looked around at my surroundings, looking for something that the stormtroopers might have overlooked in their dragging me in here. Everything in this room was white: white walls, white floors, ceilings, even the metal bunk I was sitting on was white. The only difference was the door had a small black outline to it.

Lifting one hand to my head, I wondered about the rest of my fellow pilots. Did they escape? Would anyone tell the Commanders that I had been captured? Probably, but it was unlikely that they would do anything about it. Too many pilots had been captured for the Commanders or "brass" as my fellow pilots and I call them (when they aren't listening, of course) , to care about one of the few lucky survivors of Alderaan.

Realizing that they had removed my helmet along with the rest of my flying gear, I checked my pocket for a knife or blaster that they might have missed. Finding none, I realized that my situation is hopeless. There is no escape once you are up against armed guards with blasters and a Dark Lord of the Sith on their side when you're unarmed.

Just when I felt as though I was about to faint from hunger, two stormtroopers entered the cell as the door opened with a _hiss_. They bound my hands behind my back and motioned for me to step out of the cell into the corridor. "Don't try anything, Rebel." one of them spat as I got up. I resisted the urge to retaliate which would only (at best) end up with my being knocked out by another stun bolt.

As they led my to the turbo lift (elevator-like device), I tried to think of a strategy. I could probably disarm one of the guards, and his companion, more likely than not stunned by my action, would freeze up, giving my time to blast him and free myself. Then if I could find my way to a hanger bay, I could hijack a ship and head back to the rendezvous point.

As I contemplated the pros and cons of this hastily put together plan, the lift stopped and the stormtroopers escorted me out. Down another empty corridor, we walked. I had a pretty good idea where we were heading. They were leading me like Banthas (large, furry, horse-like creatures with horns) to a slaughter. I was going in front of a firing squad. I almost laughed at the irony. I had started at the Imperial Space Academy, trained to do the very thing that they were going to do to me.

Instead, when we entered a room, the troopers didn't draw their blasters. They sat me down in a chair to which they shackled my hands and feet. So this was how it was going to be then. They were going to try to get some information out of me. They weren't going to get what they wanted. I didn't know much about where the Rebellion was headed, but they probably had on record what I knew.

My blood ran cold when a tall dark figure entered the room. Darth Vader. The most terrifying being in the galaxy. Right above the Death Star, but below Palpatine. The emptiness of the optical scanners on his helmet stared into my eyes. I stared right back, determined not to show fear. I could my fear disappearing and anger replacing it. Anger for all the fine men he'd killed and that he didn't show remorse.

I could feel my anger building up momentum when I heard a loud buzzing noise coming closer. Breaking eye contact with Vader-he'd won this round for now- I turned my head and faced any Imperial prisoner's worst nightmare. The interrogation droid with a needle coming ever closer, connected to a vial of what looked like poison ready to pierce my skin. I pressed myself back against the chair, trying to avoid the needle making contact.

When it did, stars appeared before my eyes and I broke my silent promise not to scream. My head felt like it was ripping in two as Vader used the Force to invade my mind. At first black spots appeared in my vision, threatening to close in, but I fought to stay conscious.

After what seemed like hours, but was only a few minutes, the droid pulled away and the pain stopped. Things swam back into focus for a moment before going black.

It was like being in a dream world, hovering between life and death. I could hear voices over me, but they sounded different, more gentle. A bright light appeared to me and I squinted. "No," I gasped. This wasn't how I wanted to go, not now, not when the Rebel Alliance was so close to winning the war. "No."

I could feel someone take my arm and check for a pulse. I opened my eyes. I was still in the interrogation room. The droid had resumed injecting me with that awful liquid. I can't quite remember what I said, but I'm pretty sure that I didn't give away the Alliance's position. I could remember the stormtroopers releasing the restraints that bound me to the chair, my feeble attempt at trying to take down Vader and his single comment, "Pathetic," as he pushed me away.

The stormtroopers half-walked and half-carried me back to my cell, where mercifully, I passed out.

When I came to, I was still in the same cell, not sure how much time had passed. I glanced uninterested at the tray that had been left in the slot. Time and training had taught me to eat whenever the opportunity presented itself, but I didn't see the point. After what I assumed to the Imperials thought to be an unsuccessful interrogation, they would most likely resort to using truth serums injected into the food or hallucinogenic substances to force me to cooperate.

I avoided contact with the tray for a while, trying to think of better things. Eventually, thirst won and I drank some of the water, which left the world around me swirling in a blaze of white. I don't know how many time parts (hours) had passed when I next opened my eyes. The tray was gone. I hadn't expected that. Rumors flew around base all the time on how the Imperials would force Rebels to eat, if only just to keep them alive.

Something seemed different, somehow. I don't know why, but it just did. It seemed like something was about to change. I thought that I could hear the sound of blasters being fired in a distance. Wishful thinking I supposed, even as I heard stormtroopers calling to each other as they fled.

It got quiet after a while, and resigned to the fact that they had forgotten I was here, I laid down on the metal bunk, waiting for sleep to come. Hearing a sudden noise I jumped.

I stood, leaning against the wall for support when the door slid open. I curled my hand in a fist, ready to fight, however weak I was. But when I saw who it was, the fist dropped.

Standing their, in their resplendent Alliance-issue flight suits were my wing mates. I was free.


End file.
